Choices
by Kaz Gemcity
Summary: The choices we make are what make us who we are. They are means to an end, though sometimes we choose wrong. Then it's time to face the consequences.
1. Chapter 1

Choices.

They are what make us who we are. The decisions we make and the things we choose. But we don't always choose right. Whether to pull the trigger or not pull the trigger. To let everything go or hold on in case something better comes. But sometimes it can only get worse. And those are the times when you find out who you really are. Is there a part of you that is willing to do anything to get the job done? Is there a part of you that doesn't care if people get hurt in the process, as long as the means seem to justify the ends? The answer is yes. There is a part of all of us that is willing to look out for only those we care about, and damn the consequences and damn everyone else. Those are the times when we make the wrong choice. Those are the times when who we are comes back to haunt us.

I didn't pull the trigger. Not the first time. Not the second time. Even though I should have. I still considered him a friend. My choices, my decisions, my life, will effect the people that I love forever.

Choices.

They answer the questions.

My name is Michael Westen and my choices got me killed.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N- I hoped you liked. I am looking for a beta, if anyone is looking to beta. If not, then oh well. This was not what I was planning for the second chapter, but it seemed mean to leave the story like that and just go into the actual story. So here you go.**_

At least that is what Larry told me. That my choices are what got me killed. Not that I actually died. It's complicated. Just like everything. Just like Fiona. Just like Larry. Just like Victor. Just like Bly. The people that were around when my life fell apart. I didn't die. Fiona did. And with a single shot my life unraveled at the seems. The list of the dead is longer than the list of the living and I can add my name to that list.

The thought occurs to me that I wouldn't be able to pull the trigger. That again the weakness in me would stop me from doing what needed to be done. Again. I tick off their names in my head, seeing if that helps with the action. The action of leaving it all behind, Pulling the trigger and doing what needs to be done to stop others from getting hurt.

Fiona. I want to scream.

Victor. A trusted enemy.

Bly. Jackass.

Me. Not yet.

There was a name missing from that list. He had two days and he destroyed everything that I had worked so hard to create.

I dug the gun in deeper.

I smiled.

I pulled the trigger, the last forty-eight hours on my mind.

Blood splattered on the floor.

**_A/N- I have more planned. Telling you why this happened, but if you don't like it, please let me know so I can move on to something else. Thank you._**


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/n- Sorry guys. I am a big fan of writing cliffhangers, so I am not going to tell you who was shot until the end. I hope you keep reading to find out, and if anyone is looking to beta, that would be nice.**_

Forty-Eight Hours Ago

As a spy, you always have someone behind you. Whether it be your government or a technically non-existent shadow government taking control of a hostile country, there is someone giving out missions and telling you who to work with to get the job done. People you don't like and people you felt like you could spend the rest of your life with. A trigger-happy ex-IRA explosives specialist. A trigger-happy American spy who decides that the best way to quit is to fake your own death. When it worked out, you have a new girlfriend and everyone leaves Dublin safely. When it doesn't several people die whenever he shows his face. But when you're burned, there is no one supporting you. But angry-as-hell ex-girlfriends and undead-ex-spies will still find that they want to work with you. Again.

When I walked in he was standing out on the balcony as if he owned the place, the sun shining in through the double doors. He turned around when he heard Sam angrily slam the door.

"Larry." I said, his name like sandpaper in my mouth. Fiona and Sam drew their guns, I didn't.

"Michael. How are you?" He asked, smiling at me. He didn't think I would shoot him. I hadn't before. But this time I wasn't the one holding the gun.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded, looking him dead in the eye as I walked toward him, ignoring his question.

"Manners, Michael." He warned, a threatening edge coming into his voice. Fiona bristled.

"I'm fine Larry. What are you doing here?" I asked again.

"I need help with a case. Young boy being beaten by his drunk father. Mother is always going to the doctors. Brother is a gambler. Girlfriend is a criminal. Best friend is a washout. I have been sent to kill him." Sam and Fi hadn't lowered their guns. I was tempted to tell the to shoot him. His story was eerily familiar.

It was my story.

Larry was here to kill me.

_**A/N- Like I said, I like cliffhangers. I'm sorry the chapters are so short, but I am making this up as I go along, for the most part. Tell me what you think please.**_


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N- Not much to say, other than I like this story and I love this show so you are most likely going to get at least one new chapter a day. Sometimes, usually, two or more depending on whether or not my computer is being a jerk and how much time I have._**

I hate being burned. But it is not the worst thing that could have happened, as much as I can't stand to say it. Being a burned spy means the CIA isn't actively trying to kill you. But if a bullet somehow found it's way into one of your vital organs, they wouldn't lose any sleep over it. Which sucks.

"Why are you telling me this?" I demanded, not removing my hand from his shoulder.

"Professional courtesy. Which you are not extending to me, by the way." He said, grabbing my hand. He stood up quickly pulling my arm behind my back and pressing the blade of a knife against my throat. Aparentlly being dead hadn't effected his reflexes. I smiled, he wouldn't kill me without more foreplay.

Fiona didn't agree.

Sam didn't agree.

I was still smiling.

Larry was smiling.

"Not bad Larry. But not great." I pulled out of his grasp, grabbing the knife in the process. I threw it to Fiona, she could add it to her collection. Larry was still smiling and so was I. Fiona was looking at the knife and Sam still had his handgun trained on Larry, who was still ignoring everyone but me.

"He's not gonna kill me, Sam. You can put your gun away." I told Sam. No one was going to get shot tonight.

"Mikey, he kills small animals in his free time." Sam answered me, lacing a tease into his answer. Larry smiled. He probabley did kill animals. It wouldn't surprise anyone, anyway.

"He's not gonna kill me. Are you gonna kill me?" I turned to Larry. He shrugged and picked up a piece of wire from the tool bench, where he had wandered. He began twisting it in his hands, bending it back and forth until it snapped and he had a sharp edge. Another weapon.

"I am going to kill you eventually, Michael." He said, talking about the whether. He was twirling the wire in his fingers like a baton in the hands of a color guard member. Sam lowered his gun, but did not put it away, it hung in his hand, resting at his side. Larry wandered around the loft, absently playing with the wire. I twisted out of the way as the wire flew through the air, and dug itself into the wall behind me.

_**A/N- They are getting longer.**_


	5. Chapter 5

Sometimes people lie. A lot of the time people lie. When people lie, they lie for a couple of reasons. They want to see how you will react. They don't want to tell you the truth. They have something to hide. The list goes on and on. But sometimes people lie, just because they can.

"I thought you weren't going to kill me, Larry." I told him, talking like I was asking a question. He shrugged.

"I told you I was going to kill you." Larry said. Sam and Fiona had their guns on him again.

"I didn't think you were going to kill me _now_. Don't you need help with something?" I demanded of him, because he did.

"Michael, you are not going to be helping him with anything." Fiona told me, razors in her voice. She didn't like Larry. I gave her a look, telling her to be quiet.

"Actually, Michael, you are going to help me with something." Larry informed me, walking around again, acting as if the guns on him were not there, though he was glancing at them out of the corner of his eyes.

"What do you need, Larry?" Asked Sam, not trying to hide his anger.

"A favor. " He smiled.

"Last time I did you a favor, a Mexican drug cartel came after me, and I jumped off a balcony." I told him, keeping my voice even, yet sarcastic.

"Things happen. You know how it goes." He told me.

"Michael." Fiona wined, begging to shoot Larry. I shot her another look. She pouted, but was quiet.

"Mike." Sam said, also asking to shoot. I gave him a look too. He wasn't happy with my answer.

"Larry?" I questioned, urging him to go on.

"I thought you might want to know who want's you dead." He told me.

_**A/N- Another short chapter. Sorry. I hope you like it.**_


	6. Chapter 6

When your a spy, your job is making enemies. There are political reasons for you to do what you do, of course. But you make enemies so your government doesn't have to.

"There are a lot of people who want you dead, Michael." Larry told me, smile still on his face and two guns still aimed at his heart.

"Thank's for that information. But I am only interested in the one who hired you." I said, watching his hands as he searched for another make-do weapon. He picked up a piece of thin, copper pipe.

"Mexicans, Russians, Cubans, the occasional psychopath." He continued as if he hadn't heard me.

"Who hired you, Larry?" I asked standing in front of him to stop him from walking away again.

"Simon." The name was like a spark. Everyone started yelling.

"Didn't I tell you to stay away from Gilroy?" Sam was saying at the same time, Fiona was wining,

"You should have pulled the trigger. I never like Simon."

"You took the shot when it was Victor, Mikey." Sam continued.

"Guys!" I yelled, Sam and Fi didn't stop, but Larry hadn't said a word since his announcement. He was just watching from the sidelines.

"I got to kill Carla. You should have let me come with you, when you chased Simon!"

"You should have just shot Larry, the first time, Mike!" their words ran into each other.

"Sam." I shot him a death glare and he shut up. I turned to Fiona.

"Fi. Fiona. Fiona Glenanne!" I yelled and she stopped her tirade to look at me.

"Thank you." I said to both of them quietly.

"How much is he paying you?" I asked Larry. Who shrugged.

"If you shrug one more time, I am going to shoot you in the shoulder." Fiona said.

"Three million dollars." There was a smile on his face and in his voice.

"And you are willing to kill an old friend for money from a sociopath with a thing for explosives." Fiona frowned. She loved explosives.

"Yes." Larry said. My expression didn't change, I wouldn't expect any different.

_**A/N- Do you like it so far. I though it would be nice to add in Simon because he is one of the few good bad guys who wasn't killed. **_


	7. Chapter 7

Being a spy, you need to get used to people wanting you dead, to people trying to kill you, and to people hiring other people to kill you. It happens a lot. But that doesn't mean it gets to be more fun.

"You do know that the last person Simon paid off ended up chained to the steering wheel of an armored car with explosives attached to his midsection, right?" I asked Larry.

"I do my research, Michael." He told me.

"Gilroy wasn't in the country, according to the FBI." I pointed out. He started to shrug, again, but caught Fiona's smile before he did, and thought better of the action.

"The FBI, doesn't know everything Michael. According to them, I am dead."

"Your ex-wife thinks so to." I smiled at him charmingly.

"Let's not tell her otherwise." I let the subject drop. Then continued.

"If you've been paid three million dollars to kill me, then why am I still alive?" I asked. He had had plenty of chances to kill me.

"Because you are not the only one other people want dead." He smiled. He loved his job.

"And?" I questioned, tired of his cryptic remarks.

"I believe that Jason Bly is in town to talk to you about your burn notice, Michael." He told me.

"And who hired you to kill him?" Sam wanted to know. He didn't particularly like Bly, but the fact that I trusted him was good enough. Larry shrugged and Fiona shot the wall behind him. Larry jumped and finally stopped walking around the loft. Sam and I smiled at is unease while Fi reloaded her handgun.

"Someone named Kensi Hopeaa hired me to kill Bly..." he hesitated,

"And she wants to talk to you."

**_A/N- Sorry again for my short chapters. Also sorry that I didn't get to update yesterday. Oh, and a correction from a few chapters back. "talking about the whether" was supposed to be a "talking about the weather" and it was describing Larry's tone of voice._**


	8. Chapter 8

If you are not a spy and you meet someone at a bar, and they know everything about you, you should leave. But if you are a spy and someone approaches you at a bar, and they know everything about you, you should not leave. You should not start shooting people. You should however remove this person from the bar and take them to a secluded spot where you can talk privately. Particularly if this person happens to be a beautiful woman with at least seven guns hidden on her person, and was hired to kill you.

I swallowed. I swallowed again. Kensi's name made me more nervous than even Simon's did. An ex-lover/ killer-for-hire/ spy trumps a psychopath every time. Everyone was staring at me. Larry looked happy with my reaction. Fiona looked angry that there was another woman that she didn't know about. Sam looked worried about me. His was the only look that was unusual.

"Kensi and I met in Rome. She was in Italian covert operations." I said, before stopping. This wasn't a subject I was very comfortable with. No one said anything, they were all waiting for me to continue. I didn't. So Larry took over.

"They were involved for three months, before Michael had to leave. Kensi didn't take it so well. She wired his car to blow, set his hotel room on fire, alerted the police to his whereabouts, and blew his cover with the Italian Mafia." Larry said. And looked at me to make sure he got the whole story.

"She was also hired to kill me, several times." I said. Sam went to get a beer. Fiona went to find another weapon, probablely to shoot me, and Larry smiled.

"How many times?" Sam asked me, sitting down on my bed.

"I stopped counting after three." I told him.

"Six." Larry informed us. He would know. I looked at him.

"When is she coming?" I demanded, ice in my voice.

"Soon. I don't know, Michael." Larry, for the first time frowned. It was apparent that he didn't like Kensi.

"Leave, Larry. Leave now before I let Fiona shoot you. But stay in town Larry. You still have a job to do." I told him, distracted. Fiona looked up, somewhat happily at the prospect of shooting someone, and Sam watched Larry leave with cold eyes. We all stared until the door slammed firmly. Larry had left the building.

"Fiona go see if you can find any supplies." I told her.

"Do you think they have the components for explosives at Stop & Shop or should I go to Walmart?" She asked us.

"Whatever you want." I answered, smiling as she skipped happily out of the loft, her face such a change from the frozen expression she used when Larry was here.

"Sam?" I asked him. He would know exactly what I wanted. He began walking toward the door too.

"I'll look into Kensi for you, and check in on your mom." Sam said, leaving the loft. I grabbed a yogurt and sank down on to my bed, not surprised when the door opened again, and a beautiful woman with a gun strode in.

"Hello, Kensi." I said, looking up at her.

"I missed you, Michael." She said, bringing the gun to my head.

_**A/N- It is the longest chapter yet. I hope you like it. Thank you for all of your reviews. To the people who say they like my Michael writing, I say thank you. To the people who say that they like the way I write Larry, I also say thank you, I am taking that as a complament.**_


	9. Chapter 9

Just because you know someone, doesn't mean that you trust them. As a spy, you rarely really trust anyone. It is part of the job. You work with thieves, you work with bombers, and you work with killers. You are a spy. Sometimes you are a thief. Sometimes you are a bomber. Sometimes you are a killer. So in the end, after working with these type of people, after being this type of person, you are changed. You are not the same person you were. You find yourself engaged to a thief, in love with a bomber, thinking about the fun you had with a killer. And when they're around you, there is nothing you can do about it.

Kensi slipped her feet out of the heels she was wearing, and as she slipped a hand into her bag, I flinchced.

"I am not taking out another weapon, Michael. Relax." She told me, pulling out a pair of flip-flops. I remembered her wearing those in the dead of winter in Siberia, when she was hired to kill me by an upset Russian business man. Kensi noticed my smile. She always did. She kept the gun to my head but leaned in closer to whisper in my ear.

"Did you miss me, Michael?" She whispered, breathing down my face until we were eye to eye, nose to nose, mouth to mouth. I felt my heart rate speed up and a blush came to my cheeks. I found it to be a very uncomfortable situation.

"What do you want, Kensi?" I demanded, trying to get my mind to focus on something other than her body.

"You." She told me, her face still less than an inch from mine.

"Why did you hire Larry to kill me?" I tryed again. She smiled and sat on the bed behind me, pressing herself up against me and rubbing my shoulders. The gun was now laying next to her on the bed.

"You're so tense, Michael." Her nails were digging into my back, I couldn't help but lean into her hands.

"Why are you doing this, Kensi?" I asked, my voice dropping to a low growl. She lauged and broght the gun to my back.

"Stand up." She demanded, whispering again in my ear. I did as she told me.

"Where are we going?" I asked, my emotions threatening to overwhelm me. Emotions I usually saved for Fiona alone.

"My place. We are going to have so much fun, Michael." Her voice was beautiful, but I could hear the undercurrent of threat that was always there. Best not to cross Kensi, I decided.

"Just like old time, then." My body was reacting in ways I didn't give it permission to. She smiled, though I sensed the action more than saw it. Kensi walked me out the door and to her car. It was a silver BMW z3. Her dream car, she had once told me. She pushed me toward the trunk.

"Really, Kensi? You didn't make me ride in the trunk in Iraq." I pointed out.

"I'm not making you ride in it, Michael." She returned her gun to her bag and opened the trunk. It was filled with red, shiney leather heels. She left one on the metal stairs leading to the loft. I stared at her like she was carzy, which she was.

"A calling card." Was all she said, before watching me get into the car, then slidding in herself.

_**A/N- Do you like the story? Do you like Kensi? Do you think Michael is an idiot for going with her? Do you think Fiona is going to kill him for it? Let me know, please.**_

**_If you want to see Kensi, this is how I pictured her- http:/images. starpulse. com/ pictures/2009 /01/08/ previews/ Robin %20 Tunney -ALO- 051082. jpg (Just take out the spaces)_**


	10. Chapter 10

Riding in a car with someone you don't trust is never a good idea. If said person has guns, is a professional killer, and uses red shoes as a calling card, going in a car with them is still a bad idea. But sometimes you don't have a choice, and those are the times when you need to be careful. Though being careful doesn't usually include letting a psychopathic killer 'kidnap' you, you work with what you've got.

"Why a red shoe?" I asked, letting instinct take over. Kensi shrugged.

"There Christian Siranos. Favorite brand, favorite shoe." I smiled. She would choose a shoe as her symbol.

"Where are you staying, Kensi?" I questioned.

"Hotel Oreo." She said, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. I smiled at her. And I surprised myself when it was a genuine smile. As the car pulled up in front of the large hotel, Kensi got out of the car. I followed her without any comment as she handed her keys to the valet. She looked back at me, making sure that I was following her, which I was. Curiosity was getting the better of me.

Kensi stalked through the lounge and to the elevator, knowing that I would stay behind her. We went up to the ninth floor, room nine-nine-nine. Kensi's lucky number. I wondered how she pulled that off, getting one of the most coveted rooms in the entire hotel. But as I looked her over again, I knew it wasn't hard for her. I would have given her whatever she asked for, had I been the man at the desk.

"Welcome to my beautiful four-hundred-a-night-so-not-worth-it-hotel-room." Kensi said, holding the door open for me and watching my movements as I walked carefully into the room.

"For goodness sakes, Michael! I didn't wire the room." She said, exasperated, as she walked into the room in front of me.

"It's hard to trust that assumption when you have tried to kill me six times." I said, following her into the room.

"You trusted Victor and he tried to kill you four times, counting that time with the chair." She pointed out.

"Victor was working to save me form Carla, who was threatening my family. Victor did not show up out of no where, hire someone to kill one of my connections and 'kidnap' me." I told her.

"Do you really feel like this is a kidnapping?" Kensi sounded hurt.

"No." I said, putting my hands on her shoulders and looking in her eyes. She lifted her hands and placed them on my shoulders. She spun me around and pushed me on the bed. She sat on my lap, and kissed my cheek.

"Just like old times." I whispered, before she cut me off with a kiss. And I let her.


	11. Chapter 11

As a spy, sleeping with someone you don't love is fine. Sometimes it is even encouraged. Sex is a good way to turn assets of the oposite gender. But there are times when that goes wrong. Like when you get engaged to the asset you are sleeping with, or fall in love with the asset you are sleeping with, or just plain have too much fun with the asset you are sleeping with. At that point the best thing to do is cut your losses and leave. That's never as easy as it sounds.

Kensi was breathing heavily next to me, though I imagine my breath was louder than hers. We were both staring out the window, guilt was washing over me. I could feel it in waves, hitting my heart and piercing me like bullets. What kind of person was I? I had just ruined the life I had made in the three years that I was here. I had just killed any chance I had ever had with Fiona, betrayed my love for her for a few hours with psychopathic killer-for-hire.

And while I was doing it, the only thing on my mind was what I was doing. I wasn't thinking of Fiona. I wasn't thinking of Bly. I wasn't thinking of Larry. I was thinking of Kensi and I was enjoying it.

Fiona was going to kill me. Great.

I pulled my mind from these thoughts. What's done is done. I sighed. There is still work to do. There is still an un-dead spy ready to kill me. There is still an un-dead spy ready to kill Bly. I looked at Kensi.

"Why did you hire Larry to kill Bly, Kensi?" I asked, putting my hand on her lower back. She looked at me like I was the crazy one.

"I have no idea what the hell you are talking about?" Kensi told me, her face pulling together.

"You didn't hire Larry to kill CSS Agent Jason Bly?" I demanded, sitting up straight on the mattress.

"Noooo." She lengthened the word.

"Are you okay, Michael?" She demanded, seeming concerned.

"Not really." I said, getting off the bed and searching the floor for my clothes.

"What's wrong?" She asked, getting dressed as well.

"Well, let's see. Larry is going to kill one of my contacts for unknown reasons. Larry is going to kill me because a psychopath hired him to, for unknown reasons. You show up in Miami, for unknown reasons. Fiona is going to kill me, for completely _known_ reasons. And I have to go prevent three of these things and figure out the fourth." I told her, walking to the door and pulling it open. She scrambled after me, pulling on shoes and clothes as she stalked after me down the hallway.

"Michael Westen?" A male voice called out from a few feet behind me. I spun quickly on my heel and caught Kensi who plowed into me in her effort to catch up to me.

"Bly, how nice to see you again. Does anyone know you're staying here?" I demanded, getting right to business.

"Why?" He asked as someone shot four round through the window of his room. Bly jumped as one of them hit him in the calf.

"That's why." I said pulling him up by the arm and letting him lean against me to get to the elevator and through the lobby. We all got into Kensi's car.

"You're staining my leather." She wined, driving to my place.


	12. Chapter 12

There comes a time when things can always get better. That is an optimistic view. There comes a time when things can only get worse. That is a pesomistic view. There also comes a time when things can go either way. They can get better, or they can get worse. Then you need to watch your back in case something happens, watch your front in case nothing happens, look around you to make sure nothing is going to happen, and enjoy the view while you can. It takes practice.

Fiona swung her Stop & Shop bags from her wrists. It turned out that they had had everything she needed. She smiled at the Charger parked in the lot. Her smile only grew when she noticed the lack of Sam's car. She walked through the front door and dropped her bags on the floor.

"You are not going to believe the deal I got, Michael." Fi called out, expecting me to come out from behind the open door of the fridge.

"I am sorry to rain on your parade, but Michael isn't here, Sport." A familiar male voice said. Fi grabbed her gun, startled. It took her a minute to match the voice with a name.

"Victor? Didn't Michael shoot you?" Fiona demanded, not lowering her weapon.

"You would think Michael would have some real food in here." Victor commented, not answering Fi's question as he closed the fridge door. Both looked up as the chain on the metal gates rattled. Steps pounded heavily up the stairs and the door pushed open. Sam walked in and looked around, quickly picking up on the tense atmosphere. He took it all in stride.

"Aren't you supposed to be dead?" Sam demanded, walking to the fridge, presumably, for a beer. Victor smiled but before he could reply the door opened again.

"Can I join the party?" Larry asked, laughing, a sniper in his hand.

"No." Sam answered. Fi re-aimed her gun. It was once again pointed at Larry, as was Sam's pistol and Victor's nine mil. This was the scene I walked into, Kensi behind me and Bly leaning on my shoulder.

"Wonderful. I am under opligation to arrest all of you for carrying unregistered weapons." Bly pointed out. His words dropped to the floor and did nothing to ease the tension. Larry laughed again.

"Well now it's really a party, the two guests of honor have arrived!" He raised the sniper in his hand. I didn't even hear him, my gaze was focused on Victor.

"Didn't I shoot you?" I asked quietly, my words ringing in the silent air.


	13. Chapter 13

It is not a good idea to get everyone you know together at once. An ex-girlfriend encountering and ex-ex-girlfriend causes a tension. Add in the facts that both have a fetish for explosives, an ex Navy SEAL, two un-dead spies, and a federal agent, you have a real party on your hands.

I scanned the loft, avoiding the one thing that I knew would cause everything to break down. It didn't work. I forgot my earlier words as my eyes locked on Victor. I dully noted Kensi and Fiona running into each other's arms and jumping in circles. _They are old friends. _The calm part of my mind told me. Wonderful. Bly leaned against my work bench, pressing a hand against the wound on his leg. Sam walked over with his med-kit in hand. Larry pointed his sniper at Bly, observing everything with cool, calm eyes. I wasn't aware of any of this.

I could feel it all rushing back. The pain, the guilt. It tumbled around my head, canceling out everything else. It was all I could feel. I pulled out my gun. I raised it to my head. The movement was the same as it had been more than a year before. All I could think about in that minute, in this minute, was the guilt of killing one of the few people I could really trust. I didn't kill myself then, of course, but I might now. At that point I had business to do. Carla was dead and someone had to protect Fiona and Sam from Management. Someone had to do what had to be done. This time there was nothing Victor could do. Last time I could at least tell myself that that is what he wanted. He didn't want to live to face what he had done. But this time with him standing here in front of me, knowing I caused him so much pain, that was something I couldn't deal with. Victor was staring at me, like he couldn't believe what I was doing.

"Do you really want to do that, Sport?" He asked, trying to difuse the situation. I was beyond caring what he said. I looked around me again. Everyone was staring at me. I didn't like it. I never liked being the center of attention. Kensi knew me well enough to see that. So she did what she does best. She got every eye focused on her.

"Let us, dear friends, not forget our dear friends the cuddle-fish. Filipanoutorious little saussages. They will devoure each other without a second thought. Human nature, isn't it. Fish nature, really. So yes, we could hole up here, well provisioned and well armed, and half of us would be dead within the month. Which seems rather bad to me, any way you slice it." Kensi quoted, walking in circles around all of us.


	14. Chapter 14

_**A/N- I was planning on telling you that I left off in the middle of a chapter last time, which I did. But I just re-read it and I like the way I had that chapter end better than how I was planning to have it end. Oh, and I wanted to let you know that I did quote that Pirates Of The Caribbean quote from memory, which id why I made a little mistake that I can't remember right now.**_

When it takes a Pirates Of The Caribbean Johnny Depp quote for everything going on around you to click into place, you know you are in to deep. The fact that particular quote involves people who don't like each other, but still have to find a plan to work together and stop them from dieing, well you tell me. Bottom line? Not good.

Thinking that Kensi's words fit perfectly with the situation actually caused my world to stop spinning. For the first time all day, everything made sense and could be discribed with a few simple words. I laughed out loud, gun still in my hand.

Kensi stopped pacing imediatley.

Bly and Sam turned away from the blood still streaming down his leg to face me.

Fi made to place her hand on my shoulder, but thought better of the movement.

Victor walked toward me, intent on getting the gun out of my hand.

Larry didn't move, he didn't even blink.

My laughing stopped as quickly as it had began. But now everything was crystal clear. There was no fog in my mind and I could think again. I realized that when it came to Victor, I may not have made the right choices, but it is what it is. That when it came to Kensi and Fioan finding out I had slept with both of them, I was going to be a dead man as soon as this was over. That Bly was originally here to talk about my burn notice. That Larry needed to be stopped. That I had my work cut out for me.

"Freeze." I said to anyone who was moving. Victor and Fiona stopped advancing on me. I smiled charmingly at them, letting Fiona know without speaking that I was okay.

"Okay, first of all, Larry put the gun down. You are not going to kill Bly and you are not going to kill me." He didn't look very happy with my decloration and he didn't lower his weapon.

"Don't play games with me Michael. You know I will get paid for these jobs and I will complete my missions." Larry threatened, his tone indictating that he was dead serious, literally.

"I'm not the one playing a games, Larry." I said, smirking as his eyes narrowed.

"I warned you once Michael. I will not warn you again." I didn't like the tone of voice he was using on me.

"I think you are going to have to." I stalked close to Larry and punched him in the nose, grabbing his gun and tossing to Fiona out of instinct. It then occured to me that maybe that hadn't been the my best move. I turned to Kensi, pushing the thought of an angry Fi with a gun from my mind, I nodded to her and she tossed me two pairs of handcuffs, which I used to chain a bleeding Larry to the steps that led up to the second floor of my loft. He wasn't going anywhere.

"You just happened to have two pairs of handcuffs with you, Kensi?" Fiona asked skeptically, looking from my ruffled clothes to Kensi's unkempt ponytail.

"Now is not the time, Fiona." I warned.

"We have more important things to deal with." I regreted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth. Fiona's eyes narrowed and flashed angrily. I turned away from her and once again focused on Victor.

"You going to tell us how the hell are you alive yet?" I asked. Victor shook his head in a no motion.

"It's a long story Big Guy." I shook my head in annoyance, but turned to Bly instead.

"You are here to...?" My question trailed off, as everyone waited in baited scilence for Jason BLy to answer me. He seemed ill at ease with his leg up and Sam wrapping his wound. Larry growled under his breath. I spun around to face him.

"Something to say?" I demanded.

"I don't like the way this is going." He spat. I mock frowned at him and turned back toward Bly.

"Shame. I do" I said over my shoulder. I nodded to Bly, encouraging him to continue.

"You're not burned anymore Michael. The Company wants you back."


	15. Chapter 15

A word of warning: Nothing is ever as it seems. The CIA doesn't just decide, 'Hey, it would be nice if Michael Westen was working for us again, instead of being trapped in Miami!' You need to be careful when it seems you are getting what you want, because, usually, you're not.

I looked at Bly skeptically. Then turned to Kensi.

"If you're not here because you hired Larry to kill Bly, then why the hell are you here?" I demanded, fighting to keep calm. Kensi shrugged her shoulders. She pulled out a worn, paper-back book and tossed it to Fiona.

"I had to return this?" She offered in explanation. I shook my head no.

"YOu choose now to give this back? I have been looking for it for years, Kensi!" Fi scolded, gently flipping through the pages.

"Why, Kensi?" I asked again.

"I heard you were in town, and I thought we could... Well you know." A blush rose to her cheeks, staining them bright pink.

"We haven't seem each other in years, and I figured, let bygones be bygones. Maybe we could see each other again..." She trailed off. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It was getting late and I was tired, but I could tell that I wasn't getting any sleep tonight.

"Why don't you go get some sleep, Kensi. There is a couch up there." I suggested gently, nodding to the upper floor of the loft. She smiled softly and nimbly jumped around Larry. We heard her quiet snores in minutes.

One down, three to go.

I turned to Larry.

"Okay, so let me get this straight, Simon hired you to kill me, you show up, don't kill me and instead shoot Bly. That leaves me wondering a couple of things. Why didn't you kill me, to which your answer was you need my help." I stopped talking and looked at him. He shrugged.

"I do need your help." He said.

"Next question: who hired you to kill-slash-shoot Bly?" I pulled over my mattress, since Bly was still lounging in my green chair, and sat in front of Larry. He shrugged again.

"Someone who wants you burned, I guess. It's a long list Michael, you have a target on your back."

"Who?" I demanded, harshly.

"Brennen." Great, this is exactly what I need right now. Another violent psychopath with skill equal to mine.

"Last question: why shouldn't I let Fi shoot you right now and be done with it?" I stand up and kick my bed back into place. It slides across the floor with a loud screech.

"Because you need my help too. Because that is not who you are. Because if you were going to kill me, you would have done it already. Because you can't do it."

His words stop me dead. He's right, I can't do it. I have never been a killer. But that is a lie to. I am a killer. The day I was burned I shot and killed two goons without a thought and without regret. It is since coming to Miami that I have given thought to taking life. It is not something I would have considered before, I would have just acted. And acting means killing Larry. Before I can move, Victor stepped forward.

"I wouldn't be so sure, Sport." A threat comes into his voice. Victor unbuttons the top four buttons of his shirt to reveal the skin above his heart. I suck in my breath and feel everyone in the room around me do the same. The skin is scarred and torn, lighter that the rest of his body, almost white among the pink and tan of the rest of his body.

Larry steps back, banging his calf on the stair behind him, his eyes are glued to Victor's chest Victor smiles and walks over to me. He places his hand on my shoulder.

"He shot me. In the heart. Isn't that right, Sport?" Victor says brightly. Recovering I smile and nod, loving the fear in Larry's eyes. He is shocked that I would hurt someone who appears to be a friend.

"Larry, I am going to let you go. You are going to find whatever rock Brennen is hiding under, he isn't stupid enough to be in Miami, and you are going to kill him." I speak clearly, letting the words sink in.

"And what if I don't?" He asks spitefully. I smile malichously and shrug. I hold my hand out to Fiona and she places a bobby pin in it. I pick the locks on the handcuffs with practiced ease. I pull out a small, black handgun and place it at the back of Larry's neck. In this position, I walk him to the door and pull it open, shoving him out into the just-begun rain.

"Some people live and some people die. Choose which one you want to be." I tell him, before pushing the gun into his hands and slamming the door in his face.

Two down, two to go.

"Sam, is he still bleeding?" I ask, my gaze focuses on Bly then shifts to Sam as he grabs a new beer out of the fridge.

"Nah. He's all patched up. It's going to hurt to walk for a while, though." He says. I nod. I turn to Bly cautously.

"What do you mean, I am not burned anymore? People don't just get un-burned." I say carefully. Bly shrugs.

"You know, I have had about enough of this." Fiona inserts angrily. We all turn to her, warrily.

"Someone is going to start answering questions, or so help me, I will detonate so much c4 that Victor would find it insane!" She shouts, jabbing her finger in Victor's direction. He laughs out loud at that.

"I doubt it." He tells her. Fi ignores him and walks over to Bly. She puts a hand on his injured leg and slowly leans all her weight on it. His face contorts in pain.

"Fi!" I yell at her, trying to get her attention. She can't hear me, or doesn't want to. Either way, my words don't process. I march quickly over to her and pull her hand into my own. Still, she ignores me. I firmly kiss her, finally drawing her attention to me.

"Fi, calm down." I whisper in her ear. She looks at me like she doesn't know me.

"What are you going to choose, Michael?" Fiona asks, so quietly, I am not sure she really said anything. I look at her dumbly, waiting for her to explain. Instead she walks away, hips swinging, and starts the water for a shower. I shake my head, there is time to talk to her later.

"Someone high up wants you and Jesse back. They think there is a job only you two can do." I close my eyes and let this sink in.

"Bly, get some sleep. You are going to need it. Sam call Jesse, tell him to get over here ASAP. And keep watch on things here. Tell Fi to call me later. Victor, time for a field trip." I watch them follow my directions, before I stalk to the door.


	16. Chapter 16

Trust isn't something that comes naturally to a spy. It is why we are good at what we do. When you do trust someone, you try your best to keep them around you, because the one thing more dangerous that an enemy who know all about you, is a friend who knows all about you.

I am soaked to the bone the minute I step outside. What was light mist when I pushed Larry into it, is now pouring rain. I pull open the door of the Charger and slide gratefully onto the dry seats. Victor follows my lead and sits on the passenger side.

"Where are we going, Sport?" He asks as I start driving. I take a route, that is by now, familiar. Victor's eyes widen in surprise when he sees the dock. His boat is still there. Management didn't want it and I didn't have the heart to move it. It is like a picture framed in time. Everything is the same as it was that day. Well, almost the same. Minus the sharp-shooters dressed in black, the ugly helecopter, and the dead blonde. You could still see the stain from Carla's blood, no one bothered to clean it. I think of ancient rituals, and dancing on the long-dried blood of an enemy. It makes my heart shutter.

I close my eyes and let the memories rush over me for a minute before shoving them back behind a wall again. Victor takes a deep breath and walks over the unstable bridge leading to his old boat. I go after him, not wanting for him to be alone here. As soon as he through the door, Victor heads for the bed. He drops into all fours and sweeps his arm under the duster. His hand comes out empty, and there is a broken expression on his face.

"The pictures are at the loft." I say, knowing what he is searching for. Victor turns to me.

"Why?" He asks. One simple word, convayes so much. Why did I save the pictures? Why did I bring him here? Why do I care?

"In training, they teach you to be able to leave it all behind, and not miss it. They teach you how to avoid bullets, and lose a tail. What they don't teach you about is losing love. I know how I would feel is someone took Ma, and Nate, and Sam, and Fiona from me. Hell, even Jesse. If I was all alone, I would hang on to whatever threads I could." I said, not sure what I really meant, and not sure if Victor understood what I was saying.

"But you thought I was dead." He says. It is not an accusation, just a statement of fact. I wince nonetheless. I nod.

"How?" I ask.

"I don't know, Big Guy. The last thing I remember is you. When I woke up, I was in a hospital with a young doctor standing over me. I recieved open heart surgery. Management was there. I wasn't an asset to him anymore, I don't know why he didn't let me die. I think he plans for me, Sport. Plans for us. When I was well enough, about yesterday, I was dropped here." Victor looks like he has something more to say.

"What?" I demand warily.

"What, happened, Sport? I don't remember much." He says painfully. I sigh.

"Carla is dead. Fiona cut the line." I say, refering to the time Victor told Fiona she would have to 'get in line' if it comes to putting a bullet in Carla.

"Management picked me up and took me for a ride. They offered me Carla's job. I turned it down. He told me that hell would rain down on me." I paused wondering what he would think about my next move.

"Then I jumped sixty feet out of the open door of the helicopter." Victor laughs. After a moment of hesitation I smile and laugh too.

"He didn't mention that, last time I saw him." He says, calming down.

"Last time I saw him, he told me I have a very bright future." The mood changes immediately. We both look around us, as if someone were listening to our conversation.

"I was thinking, Sport..." Victor is cut off by the rain of gunfire.


	17. Chapter 17

The things people do often have alternate meanings. As a spy you have a split-second to choose which of the meanings you are going to appeal to. For example, Just because someone is shooting at you, doesn't mean that they are trying to kill you.

The gunfire was definitly from multiple guns, that much I could tell from the first second. It was wide spread, but focused on the watch around us. Only the occasional stray bullet periced the hull or came through one of the open windows. Every three minutes the fire stopped and then resumed three minutes later.

"I think they... Want us to go out there." I said hesitentlly. Victor looked at me like I was speaking Italian.

"You're crazy." He told me.

"In comparison to you... Well, let's just say that I am the sanest person here." I replied. He looked around skeptically.

"Including whoever is shooting?" He asked. I nodded.

"How do you know that you are saner than them?" He continued.

"Because they are shooting at us." I slowly opened the door the led back over the rickety walkway. Victor followed me.

"How do you know that there not just going to shoot us?" He demanded, over me shoulder.

"I did something similar in Eastern Germany." I said.

"You know there is no East and West Germany anymore, right Sport?" Victor inquired. I rolled my eyes.

"I led a group of militants to where I wanted them by using a team of snipers to fire in the direction I wanted them to go." I continued with my explanation.

"What happened when they got there?"

"I made them an offer, they refused, and I shot them." I said telling the end of the story, that I didn't nessasserily want to share.

"Great. Who would know about this?"

"Not many people. It's not in my file. Only Carla's crap is in there. This feels like something Simon would do, but he is locked in a secret prison." Victor and I had come to the street at the end of the marina driveway. The gunfire resumed on the right side of the street. I looked at Victor. He shrugged. I turned right and followed the shooting to wherever it took me.


	18. Chapter 18

Just because you are not there doesn't mean time stops for everybody else. People woll still make friends, lose friends and fight. If your a spy and you leave people with questionable motives, alliances, and relationships together, there is a chance that, by the end of the day, there will be no more windows in South Beach.

Fiona stepped out of the shower shortly after Victor and I left. She strode to Sam, who looked up from his beer at the sound of movement. He had almost forgotten that anyone else was awake. Fi glared at him.

"What?" He demanded, in a softly yelling voice. Fiona cut her eyes to Bly and then looked back to Sam.

"Wake him up, and take him with you to go pick up Jesse from Madaline's." She ordered.

"He got shoot, Fi. He needs to sleep." Sam protested.

"Sam..." She warned. He threw up his hands.

"Fine." Sam stood up and kicked the bed Bly was sleeping on. He didn't move. Sam growled. He kicked the bed harder. Bly shot up, the gin in his hand pressing into Sam's stomach. Bly wiped the sleep from his eyes.

"Sam?" He asked groggily.

"Wake up Sleeping Beauty, you two are going on a field trip!" Fiona said from behind the door of the fridge. She came out with a blueberry yogurt in her hand.

"Wherewegoin'?" Bly asked, his voice heavy. Sam frowned.

"Madi's. We need to pick up Jesse." He tone implied that he had no idea why he had to pick up Jesse _now_. Bly smiled, catlike.

"I haven't seen the beautiful Mrs. Westen since I first came here. Michael frowns on my visits, I am sorry to say."

"He will make an exception, I'm sure." Sam grabbed Bly's arm roughly and pulled him to the door. He looked over his shoulder at Fiona.

"Fi, I don't know what you planning to do and..."

"Calm down, Sam. I'm not going to get hurt." Fiona admonished him.

"It's not you I'm worried about." Sam muttered as he closed the door. He knew as well as Fiona did that I hadn't been completely honest about his relationship with Kensi. Fi smiled once she heard Sam's car leave. She quickly walked up to the top of the loft, though she paused once she was standing over Kensi. She looked so peaceful when she was asleep, not like the backstabbing-ex-best-friend-boyfriend-stealing-bitch Fi knew that she really was.

Fiona kicked the couch where Kensi was sleeping, much like Sam had done to Bly, but she kicked harder than he did. Kensi sat up immediately. She had a detonator in her hand.

"Move and I press the button!" She yelled, still shaking off sleep. Fi rolled her eyes and grabbed the small, black device out of her hand.

"Calm down, Kens." She sighed.

"Fi." Kensi said blandly, disappointment in her voice. It was apparent that she was expecting, or hoping for someone else. Fiona raised her eyebrows.

"I think we need to talk." She said, attempting to be civil. Kensi nodded. Fire suddenly flared in Fiona's eyes.

"You stole my boyfriend again, you backstabbing bitch!" She yelled, lunging for Kensi, tears running down her face.

"I didn't steal your boyfriend. I have never stolen your boyfriend." Kensi said, defending herself.

"What about Jason, Kensi?" Fi demanded. Kensi rolled her eyes as she stood up from the couch and straightened her rumpled clothes.

"I didn't steal Jason, he choose me. Do you know if Michael has a brush around?" She asked, walking toward the desk with the ten year old computer on it.

"Only mine, and no you can't use it. What about Anthony?" Fi answered, looking over Kensi's shoulder at the photo's of her from Dublin that were in my desk.

"I only dated Anthony for his conections to that Russian gun dude. Why can't I use your brush?" She asked. Fiona looked confused.

"Because we are fighting. Because I am upset at you. Take your pick." Fi ran the tips of her fingers along the edge of the pictures Kensi found.

"Fine, I'll just use Michael's." Kensi shrugged as she picked up a small wire brush.. Fi slapped it out of her hand and watched at it clattered to the floor ten feet below them.

"I noticed you didn't dispute the fact that you are a bitch." Fiona pointed out, blocking the stairs from Kensi.

"That's because I am." Kensi shrugged and jumped from the top floor, landing neatly on her feet and effectivly getting around Fiona. Not wanting to be out done, Fi slid down the banister, her hair flying out behind her.

"Michael?" Fi asked quietly.

"Which one?" Kensi asked back, her eyes darting around the room.

"They're the same person! You know that!" Fiona did the very thing she promised herself she wouldn't do; let Kensi get under her skin again.

"McBride and Westen are the same person? I never knew." Kensi infected her voice with the perfect amount of faux-surprise. Fiona found that to be the straw that broke the camel's back. She punched Kensi in the nose and smiled as it started to bleed.

_**A/N- I am feeling un-loved. And overshadowed by other extramley good Burn Notice writers. Chough... cough. **_


	19. Chapter 19

The golden rule of spying is don't get caught. There are sub-rules, of course, like don't blow your cover, don't get to involved, be ready to leave in under twenty minutes. But when you break the number one rule, all hell tends to break lose.

We ended up at the base of a small alleyway.

"There is no way in hell that I am going down there, Sport." Victor told me. He was right. The small, thin space offered no cover or protection if bullets started flying. I looked around, trying to find a third option, that wouldn't involve us getting shot. All I had so far was get shot in the alley, or get shot here when the person directing us got tired of waiting.

I didn't like my chances.

Turns out my choice was made for me. A girl jumped out of a second story window at the end of the alley. She walked slowly toward us. The first thing I noticed was her stunning red hair. The next was the cease in fire. We had arrived.

"It wasn't you shooting at us the whole time." I said, pointing out the obvious and breaking the ice.

"No." She shook her head.

"Megan." Victor's voice dropped. He sounded subdued. For the first time since I had known him, Victor sounded defeated.

"Who...?" I began to ask, but was cut off.

"All in due time. But right now, I think you are going to need my help." Megan announced.

"Why?" I got my question out this time.

"My harmless gunfire may have attracted more attention than a double homicide." She smiled as flashing lights appeared on the horizen.

"Here's how this is going to go. When Paxson arrives you are going to go with her, Michael. Victor and I are leaving now. We'll visit you in jail." She said, grabbing Victor's arm and turning away from me and the police. Victor followed her blindly, not putting up one ounce of fight.

"What makes you think I will do what you say?" My question stopped Megan dead in her tracks. She turned toward me slowly, her eyes flashing.

"I have two professional killers in the area. An arms dealer with a grudge. Two of your girlfriends. Forty hours left. Think about it." She said. I stepped toward her.

"You wouldn't dare." I hissed.

"Maybe, maybe not. Do what I say and we won't have to find out." Megan parroted my words back at me.

"You are not behind this. You are working for someone." I called out. There was no way she could know what I had said, and I had a suspision that I knew who was pulling strings. Before I could think through this further, my favorite detective arrived.


	20. Chapter 20

Focus on what's in front of you. If you worry about what is going on everywhere else you won't have time to worry about what is going on right in front of you. That is not the way to go. Do what you have to do and think about the consequences later.

"Mr. Westen. How nice to see you again." Detective Paxson smiled. She was flanked by dozens of faceless uniforms.

"How can I help you Detective?" I asked in my most charming voice. She looked up at the sky and adjusted her sunglasses.

"I think you know why I am here, Mr. Westen." She said. She looked around at the bullet hole scattered around the area. I followed her gaze.

"Oh, you mean _that_." I gestured around with my arms in a sweeping gesture.

"Hmm, yes, that." She tilted her head to the side, waiting for an explanation.

"I can explain." I raised my hands and the police men lowered their weapons.

"Ohh, I'd like to hear that."

"You see there were these choppers and they were shooting at me. I didn't like it so I wandered in this direction. The shots followed me. Then you arrived and they stopped." I explained, slowly.

"Me and my people didn't see any choppers." She said and help out her hands for a pair of handcuffs. I smiled.

"Is there any way to convince you I had nothing to do with this?" I asked hopefully, going to jail wan't on my list of to-dos.

"No." I sighed and stuck out my hands. She put on the cuffs and led me to the car.

"We can talk back at the station, Mr. Westen. I have many questions I think you can answer. Then maybe, I can help you and you can help me." She closed the door on me, and once again I was brought somewhere I didn't want to be.


	21. Chapter 21

Life isn't always what you want it to be. Sometimes to finish what needs to be done, you just have to say 'screw it', abandon any plans you may have had, and fly by the seat of your pants, hoping that you will catch a breeze, and not fall to the ground in a burning heap.

I shuffled uncomfortably in the hard plastic seats. They really needed to reinvest at the Miami Police Department. But new chairs and maybe a gallon or two of non-dull gray paint. I could make do with rusty side-boarding, but this gray... it makes me want to shoot something. That has been happening more and more often lately. Me wanting to shoot something that is. It has to do with Larry being back. He always brings out the dark side of me. Because no matter how hard I try to surpress it, there is a part of my that thrives in a world of blood and gore, and backstabbing. A world of power. Sometimes I fear that it is the bigger part of me.

I am forced from my thoughts by Detective Paxson entering the room. She paced silently for a few moments, back and forth across the small space, seeming almost as ill-at-ease as I am. Every few seconds she glances up from the floor at me, at my seemingly calm face. Suddenly she turns on her heal to face me, her eyes burning with an all to familiar fire.

"Michael, I think I need you help." My head snaps up at her words. Never in my time in Miami has Paxson called me by my first name.

"Why?" I ask, slowly, carefully. She flops into the other chair and I can see the tears well up in her eyes.

"My daughter, she was kidnapped. And the man, he came to see me. Said that you were the only one who could help. Laughed when I said I would kill him if he touched her. Something about he had already died in an explosion." Paxson was shaking and her words came out in a rush. The stood up and began pacing again. I stood up and placed my hand gently on her shoulder. She spun again to face me her eyes feral and wild, the protective instincs of a mother.

"Calm down. What was this man's name?" I asked, confirming my suspisions.

"Larry." She answered, scanning my face. I closed my eyes for a moment. That meant I was right. Victor-slash-his-new-friend-Megan were not at all behind anything that has been going on. Not even the random appearence of old enimies.

Larry was behind it all. I should have known.

"We need to get out f here, Detective. I can't do anything from inside the police department." I said, walking for the door, my hand still on Paxson's shoulder.

"So you're going to get my little girl back?" She demanded. I smiled and gave her the most comfort I could.

"I'll see what I can do."


	22. Chapter 22

Sometimes people surprise you. As much as every spy wants to say that he can read people, he can't always. People are unpredictable... Especially un-dead people.

I had no idea how I was going to help Paxson. But I knew I was going to figure something out.

Larry had crossed a line. I didn't particularly love Detective Paxson, but that didn't give him freedom to mess with my life.

It was official. I was pissed.

"First things first. We need to get out of here." I said, gesturing with my cuffed hands to the small room. Paxson looked momentarily flustered.

"Oh, yes of course. I suppose you'll want to go talk with Sam, Fiona, and Jesse at your loft?" She asked. I opened my eyes in surprise.

"Umm, well yeah. That would be nice." I answered, before remembering that neither Jesse wasn't at my place. And Sam and Fi were there with an CSS agent and Kensi.

But Paxson was already uncuffing me.

"Actually, I should probably call them first. Just to let them know that we're uhh, coming over. " I stammered. She rolled her eyes, but handed me her cell.

I took it and dialed Fiona's number. This couldn't work out well.


End file.
